


Who's this?

by r0nj4



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Mentions of War, Mentions of pain and violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 07:24:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9311450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r0nj4/pseuds/r0nj4
Summary: The mark had been there since his sixteenth birthday. Two neatly written little words on the inside of his left forearm. Small enough to be easily hidden beneath livery.Who’s this?The writing was angular and quite dainty. He figured the girl with the handwriting was probably quite neat and dainty herself.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a soulmate AU! What a nerd! Also, it's happier than the tags might make it seem. I hope.

The mark had been there since his sixteenth birthday. Two neatly written little words on the inside of his left forearm. Small enough to be easily hidden beneath livery. _Who’s this?_ The writing was angular and quite dainty. He figured the girl with the handwriting was probably quite neat and dainty herself. 

Some had their mark in more obvious places than others. When he worked as a hallboy at Anstruther’s he’d noticed a maid with hers in the back of her neck, placed just below her hairline. _Out of the way!_ it had said. That would surely turn out to be quite an interesting way to meet ones soulmate he thought, vaguely jealous. His own mark seemed so dull in comparison. Not exciting in the least. Although to be fair, Mr Richards, the butler, had it even worse. His was a small _Good day, sir,_ on the back of his hand. There for the whole world to see. The same hand which was so obviously not adorned with a wedding band. Jimmy felt a bit sorry for him. 

Jimmy also felt a bit sorry for the girl who had his scribbles somewhere on her body. He’d never been one to receive any compliments for his penmanship.

He was never entirely sure as to how he would know it was really _her._ What if someone else's first words to him turned out to be the exact same as hers would eventually be? Then how could he ever be sure? His parents had never explained the finer details. He wished for clarity in time. The mark gave him plenty of trouble as it was. Sometimes, it would give him a sharp pain and at other times a dull throbbing. Some days he’d feel as if someone scraped lightly over it, grazing it with a blunt knife. Then there were the good days. The good days probably outnumbered the bad but he didn’t keep count. The good days he felt like someone had their fingers loosely around his arm. Like a presence there to steady him.

In the trenches there were few good days. Jimmy thought she might be missing someone who was away at war, a brother or a father. Or perhaps she worked as a nurse somewhere and had to witness numerous dreadful things day in and day out. Like the horrors caused by shrapnel or mustard gas. Then one day it got so bad he could hardly shoot straight. The mark had turned red and itched. His captain ordered him to rest. He could feel the fever that night, as he lay twisting and turning in his bed. Until a pain so sharp hit him, he vomited right down over the floor. It felt like he imagined a bullet would feel. The pain never got quite that bad ever again.

His parents had told him that it was a beautiful gift to receive the mark. An indication that you would never be truly alone. Even if you didn’t ever find the one who’d left it, you would still carry them with you. A small piece - all the same - but precious, none the less. Jimmy’s parents were soulmates. His mother had cried when the words his father had given her started to fade.

Jimmy cried when his mother died. And prayed he wasn’t hurting _her_ too much.

Some poor souls would never meet their soulmate. Others had married people who clearly wasn’t the one. Love was still love. And fun was still fun. Jimmy had his bit of fun from time to time. There was nothing Jimmy liked quite as much as a pair of soft lips against his own, and soft curves to explore beneath his palms. At times he wondered if she could feel his emotions as clearly as he felt hers. Did she feel pleasure when he did? Or instead pain - the pain of being cheated? He wasn’t sure. Jimmy never felt truly sure of anything.

He shared a corporal’s bed once in the trenches. The corporal had lips as soft as any girls’ but admittedly less curves. Jimmy found he didn’t mind. He hadn’t even taken his shirt off and still the corporal took him in his mouth. He grew thankful of his mark. And how easily hidden it was beneath both livery and uniform alike. Like a secret only he knew. The corporal took a bullet a few weeks later. Jimmy thought of him from time to time. Maybe his words had started to fade from someone else’s body too, just as his father’s had done.

The dowager Anstruther wanted to take Jimmy with her to France. But France was all mud and dead bodies in Jimmy’s mind, so he stayed behind.

As he walked into Downton Abbey through the servant’s entrance that first day he felt a lightness in his step he hadn’t felt for years. Not since before his mother had died. And the presence was with him again. Holding him steadily as he walked through the corridors. Like a friend to last his whole life. _This is where I’m supposed to be._ He could feel it. It all seemed so obvious.

”Hello,” he said to the gathering of maids in the servant’s hall.

Everyone turned silent and Jimmy wondered for a second if he had done something wrong. He vaguely heard someone offering help but all thoughts drifted away as a tall, handsome man entered. What was that funny feeling in his chest? Jimmy couldn’t make sense of it. The one which felt like fireworks and explosions and would’ve sounded like jazz if it were a song. He felt like he was dancing. Dancing in a dark club where the smell of cigarettes and cologne lingered in the air, and where there were card-games and flutters and liquor. Why was his heart suddenly beating so fast? 

 

”Who’s this?” 

 


End file.
